


A Free Man in Chicago

by missmollyetc



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Drug Use, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-16
Updated: 2009-12-16
Packaged: 2017-10-04 11:36:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmollyetc/pseuds/missmollyetc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's an entire subculture of boys riding around in vans, but sometimes that's not enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Free Man in Chicago

  
  
  
**Entry tags:** |   
[bandslash](http://missmollyetc.livejournal.com/tag/bandslash), [mcr](http://missmollyetc.livejournal.com/tag/mcr)  
  
---|---  
  
_ **FIC: A Free Man in Chicago (MCR, Gerard/Bob)** _

So, I wrote this for [](http://community.livejournal.com/bandslashmania/profile)[**bandslashmania**](http://community.livejournal.com/bandslashmania/)'s TTT Challenge on Halloween, and kinda sorta forgot to post it on my own livejournal! What can I say? I'm special.

Here it is!

Recipient: [](http://mazily.livejournal.com/profile)[**mazily**](http://mazily.livejournal.com/)  
Title: A Free Man in Chicago  
Fandom: My Chemical Romance  
Pairing: Bob/Gerard  
Rating: PG  
Author: [](http://missmollyetc.livejournal.com/profile)[**missmollyetc**](http://missmollyetc.livejournal.com/)

Notes/Summary: There's an entire subculture of boys riding around in vans, but sometimes that's not enough.

Many, _many_ thanks and appreciation go to [](http://dsudis.livejournal.com/profile)[**dsudis**](http://dsudis.livejournal.com/) for her excellent beta and all around loveliness.

Prompt: _"When they throw us out there's a place down the  
street that never closes, and when it does we'll climb a fire escape and  
praise the genealogy of light." _  
\--Bob Hicok

 

 

It was a night, a _free_ night, and Bob paid the cab with money from his own wallet, which Gerard kind of thought was the nicest thing anyone'd ever done for him since the time Bert had gotten him those bennies before the show…three shows ago. He didn't remember much after that, but nobody'd complained _then_, so it must have rocked. Touring with The Used ruled.

Gerard turned his face up to the night sky, and stretched his hands out in front of him, spreading his fingers as widely as he could manage. He wiggled his pinkies in the air, and took a deep breath, puffing steam into the air when he exhaled. The _thing_\--the really just the _thing_ was—was him. Because everything was changing, everyone was becoming different except for him and he didn't…if he never set foot in that van ever, never ever again, then he'd be fucking solid gold. Gerard scrubbed both hands down over his face, scratching at the pancake makeup crusted under his eyes. White flakes dripped off his fingertips onto the dark, cracked sidewalk. Behind him, he heard the taxi pull out onto the street and zoom away. He sniffed, glancing over his shoulder.

Bob--big, bulky Bob with the tiny smile—jerked his thumb to the right and started walking, slinging his backpack up on one shoulder. Gerard grinned. A night of Bob in Chicago, and it was all his because Bob was going to his apartment and he wanted Gerard to come with him. And he was a fast motherfucker too.

Gerard frowned, and sped up, trying to remember what Ma had said about visiting other kid's houses. Bob…didn't like loud noises unless he was mixing them, twisting the dials and punching buttons with his quick, steady fingers. It was okay though, because Gerard was stealthy and a good house guest because he was so--_so_\--quiet when he had to be. Gerard was like unto a cat with his silence. He held his arms out for balance, twisting a little as the toe of his left sneaker hit a crack in the sidewalk, and Bob grabbed Gerard's arm above the elbow.

"Just a little farther, okay?" Bob asked. "Frank said the walking might help."

"Fuck Frankie and the—and the toy horse he rode in on," Gerard mumbled.

Bob pulled Gerard upright, tugging him alongside as they walked down the street. Gerard tilted his head back and onto Bob's shoulder, letting gravity drag his hair out of his eyes. Bob was good about letting people hang off of him.

Above them, the night sky peered from around skyscraper rooftops and stores sealed tight by chain gates. It was just so _clear_ out, the stars and the air sharp-edged with cold. Gerard shivered, humming. Chicago was a pretty city. He could see why Bob liked it, except he didn't think Bob got to hang around as much as he'd probably like which…huh. Probably bummed him out a little. It bummed Gerard out sometimes, being away from home, but he had Mikey around and that made life better sometimes.

Gerard turned his head into Bob's shoulder. He smelled like the club, smoky and sweaty. "How come—I mean, you're not leaving, right? That's not why you're going home, is it?"

He reached across his chest to poke Bob's arm, missed, and wound up digging his fingers into Bob's side. Bob grunted, and skittered away, smacking Gerard's fingers. Gerard reared backwards, but then Bob returned, grabbing Gerard by the shoulders and leaning him against an iron fence.

"I'm just checking on the place while I've got the chance," he said. "My mom comes over sometimes, but it's good to see for myself."

Gerard nodded. "Yeah, I know what you mean."

Bob grinned, glancing over at Gerard while digging his keys out from his back pocket. Gerard grinned back, pressing the backs of his fingers to the corners of his smile to make sure it looked okay. Sometimes his gums bled a little these days, and it looked really cool onstage, but not so much off it. Bob shook his head, smile dimming a little, and Gerard pushed off the wall to wrap his arms around Bob's back. He pressed his face to Bob's shoulder and blew a raspberry.

Bob growled, pushing at the side of Gerard's head with his whole hand. Gerard wrinkled his nose and clung, mostly for balance, but a little because Bob was just so…_Bob_.

"I like it when you're on tour," Gerard said. "Europe was really cool and…and this one's good."

"Uh huh," Bob said. "That's nice. I like tours too."

Gerard rolled his eyes and let Bob rearrange them so his arms weren't strangling Bob to death. It wasn't such a bad place to be, stuck against Bob Bryar on a cold night. Nothing could move Bob unless he wanted to be moved, and so no one could move Gerard, if he was holding onto Bob.

Except for Bob himself, who kicked the gate open with a screech of rusting metal hinges and lurched over the threshold, taking Gerard along for the ride. Gerard laughed, stumbling along the concrete path. He leaned back, slipping one arm oh-so-stealthily around Bob's waist, and looked around the courtyard. Three rows of blank windows rose up on either side of him. One of the curtained windows, in the tallest row but at the end of it, had a fire escape attached to the brick around it, with a metal slide leading straight down to the dark, hard ground. A tree, stripped naked in winter, pierced the ground outside the inner entrance way. Dude.

"I have to lock the gate," Bob said. "Hang out here for a minute, okay?"

He untangled himself from Gerard's grasp and left him by the naked tree. Gerard snuffled, rubbing at his nose with the heel of his hand and blinking at Bob's retreating back. His buzzcut bleached under the moonlight, gold to bone-white like a ghost, and Gerard shivered. He measured the time it took for Bob to close the gate by the width of Bob's shoulders, broad under his dark hoodie. There was just enough light to see Bob walking toward him, smooth as fucking anything. Gerard's stomach twisted a little, mimicking the throb under his ribs. He rubbed his hand against it, but the pressure of his hand only made it worse. He licked his lips, rocking on his heels in the cold. A branch poked him in the arm.

Bob walked up onto the front step of the entryway and shook out his keys again. He fit the key into the lock, and opened the door quietly. Light from the hallway poured out and covered him, coloring in all the places the night had bleached. The spray of freckles on Bob's nose flexed when he grinned, looking sideways at Gerard.

"You feel up to moving?" he asked.

Gerard raised his hand to pat Bob's cheek. He missed, skimming the air at the back of Bob's head, but Bob caught his fingers—again, man, he was like a snake with those reflexes—and folded his palm around them, warm and solid. Gerard giggled, and Bob, startled, laughed as he led the way into the apartment building.

 

***

 

After the cold stairwell, it felt warm in the hallway with its the creaking brown wood floor, and the frayed, red runner carpet, and the yellow lights stuck to the walls. Bob had scored an actual _place_, a home and not a temporary squat or a corner of his parent's basement like Gerard still had and it…it was different. Bob was different, standing outside his own place with the keys in the lock. Light sliced into Bob's apartment through the open door and Gerard followed its path inside, placing his feet carefully within its boundaries. Bob followed him, shutting the door and flipping on the overhead lamp.

Bob's apartment looked like Bob, only dustier and full of sheets. Everything was very neat and had its proper place, and the walls were covered in band posters, a lot of them with the Hard Rock logo in the corners. Gerard sneezed, twisting his fingers in a corner of a paisley sheet that looked vaguely couch-shaped. He could…maybe he could fit himself into the space near the kitchen and just sit at Bob's table and draw and…he hadn't drawn anything for awhile.

"Make yourself at home," Bob said, as he shut the door.

Gerard swirled his other hand in the air, and wriggled his fingers. He was a little—just a little tired—kind of like he'd been moving for ages and ages on pure momentum and now he was stopped, his body wanted to just curl up and _stop_ for good. Bob's apartment looked like it'd been waiting for Bob _forever_, sitting around all day covered in dust and sheets with no one to look after it.

Gerard rested his hip on the arm of the couch, and overbalanced. He fell flat on his back, one of his feet slipping off the sheet to the floor with a thud. Gerard shuddered, tucking his hands under his arms, and lifted his leg back to the couch. His head tilted to the side, and Bob swung into view again.

Bob sighed. He rubbed a hand over his head as he walked to the couch, hair a proper blond. It was good he never dyed it. The contrast did wonders for his eyes, blue, bluer, bluest and filling Gerard's sight as Bob leaned over him. He reached down. His hand hovered above the zipper on Gerard's hoodie.

"You should sit up," he said. "I'll get you a glass of water."

Water. Man, Bob could be so cute. Gerard licked the corners of his mouth, pushing them up into a grin.

"Hi," he said.

Bob's mouth twitched, shaking the blond fuzz of his beard. Gerard hadn't ever kissed a man with a beard—stubble totally didn't count—but he could kiss Bob now, because Bob had brought Gerard home with him. Gerard scooted down the length of the couch-shaped sheet. His boot heel hit against an end table, but it brought Bob's still outstretched hand up to Gerard's mouth. He stretched his head up, and planted a sloppy kiss to Bob's palm.

"Hey, what—I mean, wait a minute…" Bob said.

He tried to stand up, but Gerard could be quick like a snake too, and grabbed his hand before Bob could take it away. He tugged hard, and Bob braced his free hand on the back of the couch. His knees thudded into the edge of the couch cushions and directly into Gerard's ribs. Air ripped its way out of Gerard's lungs on a groan.

"_Jesus_, Gerard," Bob muttered. "You okay?"

He leaned down, finding his balance and shifting over the couch until he was sitting down in the bend of Gerard's knees. Gerard shook his head. The angle was all wrong, it was fucking awkward and he—he was really fucking tired of being awkward, especially in front of Bob. He pulled Bob's hand closer to his mouth. His knuckles tasted like salt. He felt Bob shudder, and squirmed closer, bumping his ass against Bob's thigh.

"You're warm," he said. "Come on."

Bob looked at him, straight in the face, and Gerard averted his eyes, focusing instead on the thin line of Bob's mouth. He squirmed up onto one elbow, leaning his weight on his side, and craned his neck back. He wrapped an arm around Bob's shoulders and Bob's arm came around to brace Gerard's back automatically. Gerard grinned, putting his mouth next to Bob's. For this, he'd keep awake a little while longer. Bob's breath rushed across his cheek, hot and quick.

"I'm good at this part," Gerard muttered.

"Oh well, isn't that the…fuck, you're…okay. Okay."

The flicker of Bob's tongue along his lower lip caught Gerard's eye, and he followed its path to the edge of Bob's mouth and back. Bob kissed him, putting one large hand to the side of Gerard's face and tangling his fingers in Gerard's hair. His lips were chapped, a little rough against Gerard's top lip, but warm and sweet. He tilted Gerard's head with the hand in his hair, grunting when Gerard grabbed onto his back for balance, fisting his hand in Bob's hoodie. Gerard moaned, pressing closer and Bob slipped away, falling off the couch and pulling Gerard around so that he lay on his back, with Bob perched over him, on his knees on the floor. He opened his mouth for Bob's tongue and…Bob pulled away. He kissed the edge of Gerard's mouth, and the curve of his jaw, and even his cheek. His beard tickled, not like the harsh rasp of stubble at all. It had grown past the stiff bristles into something like fur, like the cats his and Mikey's aunt Delia had when they were growing up.

Bob switched hands, the left moving into Gerard's hair as the right slid down Gerard's throat to rub down his chest. Gerard arched his back into the touch, shuddering as the ache in his chest and the twist in his stomach flared to life and released beneath Bob's steady hand. Bob's mouth came back, pressing at Gerard's lips, only whenever Gerard tried to speed the kiss, tried to nip or lick, Bob pulled away until Gerard slowed, until he let Bob's mouth brush at his own, push and pull and pour warmth down Gerard's throat. The hand on Gerard's stomach rubbed in time with the press of Bob's lips.

Gerard let his eyes close, let his body warm and turn to liquid, until the rush of adrenaline in his body was a pulse, throbbing, drugging like the taste of Bob in his mouth. His breath slowed, falling under with the weight of Bob's hands in his hair and on his belly. His head fell back to the couch, and Bob retreated from his mouth slowly, like the pendulum of a clock, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. It was warm and sweet and Gerard couldn't open his eyes.

He murmured, tried to get Bob back when he took his mouth away, but Bob's hand covered Gerard's eyes, blocking even the possibility of light. His other hand kept rubbing Gerard's stomach, circling right where it usually hurt the most, and Gerard was tired, and the house smelled like Bob, and surely…of course, it would be okay to rest here, just for a little while.

 

***

 

In the morning, Gerard's head felt like an overripe watermelon, brains sloshing whenever he moved his head over the couch cushion, but there was coffee and cigarettes and even a bagel, and in the taxi Bob let him sleep under his hoodie all the way back to the vans. When they pulled into the parking lot, Gerard dug out his wallet to pay, while Bob stepped out and hooked his arm through one strap of his backpack. The morning was grey and bright. Gerard squinted, holding Bob's hoodie over one arm.

The taxi sped off, and Mikey was already waving at Gerard from the driver's seat of the van. Gerard waved back. Bob cleared his throat.

Gerard looked over, resisting the urge to duck his head, or do something even more stupid, like kiss Bob in front of the entire tour. He needed an aspirin, or a beer, something to make it less hard to just stand there and count the inches between him and Bob. He stuck his arm out instead, dangling Bob's hoodie from his hand.

"You've got a really nice place," he said instead.

Bob's mouth quirked, and Gerard licked his lips. He maybe let himself sway forward, just a guy losing his balance, and sure enough Bob stepped forward to catch him. He blocked the light a little, and Gerard cautiously opened his eyes again.

"Do you think…" Bob trailed away.

Gerar cleared his throat. He could hear the guys in the background. Engines rumbled to life around them. If he wasn't careful they were gonna leave him, but…no, they wouldn't leave without Bob.

"Yeah?" he prodded.

"You think you might want to come see it—the apartment, I mean—you could come back?" Bob asked, rubbing his left eye and then the side of his face.

A blush colored the spaces between Bob's freckles, and Gerard smiled. Bob's mouth curled upwards in response, private and good.

"Yeah, I mean, yes," Gerard said. "I would like that."

A horn blew behind him, loud enough that the sound pushed Gerard into Bob, and then Frankie's fucking evil cackle rang out.

"Screw you, Frank!" Gerard yelled, cramming his hand against his right ear. "Jesus Christ!"

He pivoted on one foot, Bob at his back, and glared straight into the open passenger's side window of the van. Frank leaned out over the edge, teeth glinting in the sun. Behind him, Toro was a mass of curls, face buried in the steering wheel.

"Touring! Touring, it's never boring, touring, touring…" Frank sang, squeaking out the high notes.

The sidedoor slid open, and Mikey peered out, blinking behind his glasses. He raised his eyebrows, and Gerard shrugged.

"I'll see you at the next venue," Bob said.

Gerard turned around. "Oh, yeah, right," he said.

Bob smiled at him, blue eyes lit up. He crammed a knit cap over his head and raised his hand, waving as he walked backwards. Gerard turned back, shaking off Mikey's grin with a shrug, and climbed up into the van. He sat down next to Mikey, and leaned his head on Mikey's shoulder. He waited to make sure Bob got on his van all right, reached out, and then shut the door.


End file.
